


Please

by why_the_nightingale_sings



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Blood, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Bondage, Choking, F/M, Flogging, Forced Orgasm, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Scratching, Whipping, therapeutic BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_the_nightingale_sings/pseuds/why_the_nightingale_sings
Summary: "Why so stubborn on this, Doctor Devorak?  Is it so distasteful to you, the thought of begging?"





	Please

**Author's Note:**

> Julian Devorak is a canonical subby painslut. What else was I supposed to do with that information?
> 
> **NOTE: Very mild spoilers for the garden scene in The Lovers chapter of Julian's route.**

The apprentice stepped back and admired their work. It was good Julian was so tall, his body had some absolutely beautiful lean lines and their fingers twitched for some charcoal and a sheaf of paper to capture this moment. Doctor Devorak, wanted murderer, man on the run, and all that, shirtless and at their mercy. His wrists were lashed together and held above his head by a length of rope secured to a hook in the ceiling that was usually reserved for the dream charm Asra had given them on their anniversary apprenticeship. The apprentice thought that the helpless doctor was a better decoration. 

“Well, doctor,” they said, a note of cool amusement in their voice, “Are you comfortable?”

“Not particularly.”

“Good.” The apprentice breezed past him to light a candle on the nearby table, “Though, do let me know if it becomes unbearable. We can stop at any time, Julian. Promise me you will let me know if it’s too much.”

There was enough of a pause to cause them to turn and fix him with a stern look before he managed, “I promise.”

“Good boy.”

He ducked his head to try and hide the way the blood rushed to his cheeks at the casual remark. 

“Julian.”

He glanced up at them from under his wild red hair. The candle was casting a gentle glow on their face and he swallowed. 

“Are you ready to begin?”

Something hot coiled low in his belly and he nodded. The smile that spread across the apprentice’s lips was not entirely comforting. But their next words bring a sense of calm to his jumbled nerves.

“Say your word for me, Julian.”

“Starstrand,” he obeyed. The brilliant luminescent flower that distilled into the most deadly poison. Something beautiful and dangerous. The blue flower he had given them sat, unassuming, in a small vase on their window, bathing in the moonlight. 

“Say the word, and I’ll stop,” they reminded him. They stepped closer, stepped into the moonlight, and he choked on his breath. Their head tilted to the side, watching him. Watching him stare at them. His eye was wide and his fingers looked as though they wanted to fight the bonds that held him helpless before them. 

“I must say, Julian,” they said coolly, unwinding the thin leather strap that rested around their hips, “after our little moment in that garden, I wondered when you would ask this of me.” Their eyes trailed meaningfully to the place on his torso where the vampire eel bite should be, where magic had healed and wiped away any trace or any scar. But he knew exactly what they meant and they watched, amused, as a shudder ran through his body. 

His gaze focused on where they were toying idly with the leather. His body hummed, yearning, desperate. Desperate for that sharp kiss. Their wrist flicked and the leather kissed his skin with a sharp, searing pain. The needy gasp fell from his lips before he could stop it and his cheeks flamed. 

Their wrist flicked again and pain blossomed across his flesh, a second red welt marring his torso. His eye closed in bliss and his head fell back. Yes, this was what he needed. This was what he missed. 

The next series of lashes fell quickly and he shivered in delight. The last strike came after a short pause and he knew immediately why. The artful swing of the leather caught him just around the waist so the tip snapped around hard, landing on his back with a crack. He arched against the pain, biting his lip to stop the shameless, wanton moan from escaping. 

“Julian,” the apprentice admonished sharply, “don’t hide the way you enjoy this. You do that enough outside. In this room, with me, let me hear you.”

They didn’t give him time to reply before the leather cracked against his flesh again. His spine arched and the cry that fell from his lips was tinged with desperate ecstasy. The apprentice hissed appreciatively at his response as he shivered and pulled at his bonds, whether to get away from the pain or to press against it, they did not think even Julian knew. They watched, fascinated, as with each strike of the leather, the tension eased from Julian’s limbs. As the pain kissed his flesh again and again, he surrendered more and more, the tense muscles melting into languid lines. They paced a slow circle around his body, admiring the pattern of red welts marking his pale skin. They stepped closer to examine one striping his back from his left shoulder to his right hip. It was a beautiful mark and they trailed their fingertips along it. As he thrilled to their touch, they noticed idly the spray of freckles along his shoulders. 

“You know, Julian,” they mused, leaning close enough to brush the shell of his ear with their lips, causing him to twitch suddenly, “You were absolutely right.”

He made a small questioning noise in the back of his throat. Even that sounded breathy and needy, a fact which curled their lips into a smile. 

“What you said to me,” they continued, trailing their fingertips across the welts along his back, “In your line of work, one can’t be afraid of a little pain.”

They marked their last word by scoring their nails in a long line down his back. He hissed and strained against the bonds as their nails raked across his skin, and even more painfully across the welts. A gasp dropped from his lips, hot and heavy, as he felt their nails tear through skin and draw blood in a few places. 

“Oh look at that,” the apprentice remarked carelessly, “I’ve made a mess of you.”

They paused and chuckled, low and dark, “Well, not quite.”

Every atom of his being thrilled at the promise in their words. His fingers clenched and the soft cinder low in his belly blazed hotter, something tightening in his core as though to stop the arousal, as though to remind him that this was wrong. People weren’t aroused by pain. Normal people didn’t find themselves hard and gasping at the thought of what new pain would be inflicted upon them next. Normal people definitely would not tremble with desire at the feeling of his blood being licked off his skin.

Fingers scraped against his scalp, twisting in his wild red curls to drag his head back. 

“Stop thinking, Julian,” they ordered him firmly, “Relax. Let yourself enjoy this.”

The fingers, though still painfully tangled in his hair, massaged his scalp and he groaned. Their other hand snaked around his waist to drag their nails down his chest and they laughed in his ear as he shuddered weakly against him. 

“Don’t fight it,” they crooned, trailing their lips over his neck, “Don’t you live for danger? Aren’t you positively enchanted by it?”

A small whine escaped his lips and they laughed again, pressing their chest against his back as their grip on his hair forced his head to the side. He didn’t understand what happened until after the pain bloomed in his throat. Their teeth had sunk into his skin and they had released a savage snarl in the back of their throat. The bite turned into a harsh suck, leaving behind an angry red mark, and he could feel the way his arousal was being restrained by his pants. 

“You know you want this. You asked for it.”

The apprentice pulled away from him and he whimpered, his head twisting so he could watch them through his hair as they circled around him. He couldn’t help it, he glanced down to his clear hardness hidden by his trousers and their eyes followed. 

The absolutely sinful smirk that spread across their face was like a jolt of white-hot lightning straight to his loins and he clenched his jaw to keep himself quiet.

“Is there, perhaps, something else you want, Julian?”

Their voice purred low in their chest and, unconsciously, he leaned toward them. Yes, there was something he wanted, something he needed desperately. 

“What do we say?”

His eye snapped to their face in time to see cold amusement in their gaze. Something shifted in his face, some semblance of pride, and he clenched his jaw tight. Their brow lifted. Fast as a snake, their hand cracked across his cheek, whipping his head to the side. He gasped and felt his cheek begin to redden. His treacherous member strained harder against the tight fabric keeping him confined. 

Their fingers gripped his chin harshly, turning his head back up to meet their gaze. “If we want something, we ask for it nicely.”

He pressed his lips together. No. Not that. 

Their brow lifted, “Is this pride, Doctor Devorak?”

His eye flashed and their smile widened.

“Oh fun,” they hissed. 

He almost surrendered right then and there, the predatory glint in their eye, the eager hiss, the way they leaned closer….he was almost undone. Almost. Somehow, he summoned enough bravado to curl his lip. 

Their nails pinched at one of his nipples and his brave sneer flickered at the sudden pain. Unconsciously, he pressed his chest against their hand. Their mouth found his throat and pressed hot kisses to his skin, kissing down his torso to take his other nipple between their teeth, teasing at it. He tried to stop the curse from falling past his lips and failed. 

“Fuck…”

“No, that’s not the word I want to hear, Julian,” they were quick to snap, their head rearing back to fix him with their piercing gaze. “You claimed to have intimate knowledge of pain, dear doctor, why not prove it to me? All you need to do is say one word.”

A dry, desperate sob caught in his throat as their fingers scored new red marks down his chest before their palm pressed against his hardness hidden by his pants. His head fell back and his eye focused on the way the bonds were rubbing his wrists, anything to resist the spell of the apprentice’s touch. 

“Just one word,” they whispered, lips brushing against his collarbone. He twitched, hips jerking as their fingers undid the front of his pants, freeing him from the constraint. His eye fluttered shut as they wrapped their fingers around him, their other hand trailing teasingly along his hip. He pressed his lips firmly together. 

“Why so stubborn on this, Doctor Devorak?”

Their nails dug into the skin of his back even as their other hand carelessly stroked his shaft, teasing his head with gentle, fluttering touches. 

“Is it so distasteful to you, the thought of begging?”

He whimpered as they clawed his back again, their other fingertips tracing delicate patterns along the smooth, soft skin of his erection. 

“I can be generous, Doctor. I can give you what you want.”

His hips thrust helplessly into their hand, desperate for more. More pleasure or pain, he did not know. Perhaps both. Definitely both. 

“Ask me for it, Julian. Ask me for what you want.”

They stroked him, their hand tightening around him, their other hand gripping his throat. He gasped, his eye snapping open to see the savage smile painting the apprentice’s face. 

“Unless of course, you want me to stop…”

They pulled their hand away and he choked out a needy half-sob. The hand around his throat tightened. 

“Julian.”

He met their eyes and knew he was lost. 

“Say it.”

It was a broken whisper, barely more than a breath of air, “Please.”

And damn the apprentice to the depths of Hell if they didn’t cock their head, playing false innocence. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

They fixed him with their piercing, hooded gaze. His tongue flicked out to nervously wet his lips. He was lost. 

“Please.”

The apprentice smiled. He was theirs. 

“Please what?”

Something shifted in him after the first pleading word fell from his lips, some hidden wall crumbled and once he started he couldn’t stop. He surrendered to it. He surrendered to _them_. 

“Please, let me touch you,” he begged, “Please, let me kiss you. Hurt me all you want, please. Please, let me worship you. Please, please.”

Their brow lifted before they could stop it. _Worship?_ They liked that word choice. 

“I like you begging,” they whispered against his lips.

“Please kiss me-”

Julian didn’t get the full sentence out before they had pressed their mouth to his. There was something hungry about the way they kissed him and he kissed them back eagerly, offering himself to them, offering his mouth, offering his body. Offering his heart and soul. They gripped his hair hard to stop him from pulling away, as if he could when they were consuming everything around him so that they were his entire world. They were the only thing that existed, their kiss drowned out everything else. 

Almost everything else. 

The cold kiss of metal against his wrist brought a half-panicked flutter to his heart but the blade merely sliced through the bonds and he was free. His hands yearned to touch them, to hold them, to caress them everywhere. But that was for another time. He broke the kiss to fall to his knees before them, looking up through his dishevelled red hair to their surprised but delighted face. 

“Oh look at you,” they breathed, stroking his face with their fingertips, scraping their nails against his cheek. He shivered, his arousal still very evident. “ _Look at you_.”

“Please,” he whispered, “may I touch you?”

They nodded, still smiling in wonder at the sight of him covered in welts and on his knees before them. His hands, trembling, reached out to grasp their hips. He leaned forward and pressed his face to their hip, a sacred, devotional act and brought a flutter to the apprentice’s heart. Julian shifted, risking a glance up at the apprentice before carefully finding his way past the robes they wore, pulling the robes up to reveal their most intimate place. He hesitated only a moment before pressing his mouth against them, taking them into his mouth. 

They gasped, their fingers threading through his red hair. His tongue knew what it was doing, tracing patterns across their sex, and his eyes were bright as they looked up at the apprentice. 

So this is what it was like to be worshiped. 

The apprentice liked it. 

The carpet was rough on his knees but he didn’t care. The air stung against his welts and the bloodied scratches on his back but he didn’t care. 

The apprentice’s gasps and moans grew louder, bolder, as he worshiped them until, with a cry of his name, they climaxed against his mouth. He tasted their ecstasy and swallowed it all, feeling their eyes on him as he held their hips firmly, letting them lean against him lest they fall in the aftermath of their pleasure. 

“You didn’t ask permission for that,” they gasped. 

“Better to ask forgiveness,” he whispered. 

The slap was weaker than before, delivered with a trembling hand, but stung all the same and Julian savoured the pain. 

“You also have not asked for your own pleasure,” the observation was given in a slightly more controlled voice. 

He was so hard it hurt. 

“My pleasure doesn’t matter,” he said, hands making no move to touch himself. 

“You don’t think you deserve a reward after what I put you through?”

“I haven’t earned it.”

“I disagree,” they said, smoothing their hair down, “you were obedient, you begged for me, you responded well to the pain I gave you…”

“I don’t deserve kindness.”

“Julian,” their hand forced his chin up to look at them. Something had softened in their face and their voice was warm again, warm and genuine, “Yes, you do.”

They held his gaze for a long moment and he fought the overwhelming urge to squirm or drop his eye and look away. 

“Please,” he said hoarsely, pretending the thing caught in his throat and choking him wasn’t a burning sob. 

“Please what?”

“Hurt me again.”

The slap was strong enough to send him sprawling on the rug and he groaned, a rush of arousal causing him to leak against his stomach. Before he could straighten, the apprentice’s foot was pressed lightly but firmly against his throat. This was even more helpless than before, pinned to the floor, choked by a foot, and watched with heartless eyes. He fought the way he twitched and hurtled closer to his climax. 

“Julian,” they said coldly and he shuddered at the commanding tone of their voice, “you are going to come for me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his eye sliding half-shut as he allowed himself to slip into that wonderful, surrendering headspace. 

“Good.”

He didn’t hear the whistle of the leather they had taken up again until it slashed across his ribs. His entire body tightened with delicious pain and he choked back a cry of their name. His cock leaked more pre-cum that smeared against his skin but he didn’t care. 

The lash fell again, licking around his waist to snap against his lower back and he moaned desperately, the pain shooting straight to his erection. The foot on his throat pressed down, getting his attention.

“Julian, the next time I whip you, you are going to come.”

He blurted their name in a panic, terrified that he would disappoint, horrified at the thought of disobeying even by accident. 

“You will, Julian.”

His fingers gripped the rug and he tried to turn his face away. The foot on his throat moved to catch his chin and force his face back up to theirs. 

“Are you ready?”

The arousal was unbearable. The tension was agonizing. The possibility of failure was worse than any lash pain. 

Their wrist flicked, the lash snapped across his flesh for the last time and his vision went white. He came and he came hard, his seed painting his torso white to contrast with the red welts. He tried to cry out their name but the sound was stuck in his chest as every muscle in his body tightened with the explosion of his climax. 

Gradually he became aware of someone saying his name and gently stroking his face. His eye cracked open to take in the face of the apprentice as they knelt beside him. His chest rose and fell with the residual pants of his ecstasy. 

“Julian,” the apprentice asked, taking his face in their hands, “are you alright?”

His lips moved but no sound came out. 

He wet his lips and tried again. 

“Thank you.”

A smile softened their face and they leaned down to kiss his brow. 

“I’m very proud of you, Julian.”

They curled up next to him on the floor and he wrapped himself around them, resting his head on their chest. They stroked his hair comfortingly. 

“Do you need anything?” they asked, “Water? A blanket? Some tea?”

He shook his head.

“Do you want anything?”

He held them tighter. “I have what I want.”

They laughed softly, “Oh, Ilya…”

And on the windowsill, the poisonous flower glowed with its blue light.


End file.
